Bespoke
by Clara Barton
Summary: Getting fitted for a 4000 dollar suit is the last thing Heero wants to be doing. Watching Duo get fitted for one... well, that's an entirely unexpected experience. For Cylinanightshade
For Cylinanightshade, who asked for 1x2 #5: "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

Warnings: language

Pairings: 1x2, 4x5

 _Bespoke_

"You know what I don't get?"

I snorted and looked over at the man walking beside me, polishing off a pretzel as if he hadn't eaten in a week - instead of just forty minutes ago.

"Where do you want me to start?" I asked.

He stopped dead and turned wide eyes on me.

"Did you - oh my _God_ , Heero did you just make a snarky _joke_?"

I glared at him, but, as usual, he was completely unperturbed. He shoved the last of his pretzel in his mouth, crumpled up the paper wrapper, and tossed it into a nearby trashcan before he wrapped an arm around my neck.

"I'm so proud of you!" He said around the mouthful.

I shoved him away. "I think you spit on me," I complained and wiped at my face.

Duo worked hard to swallow and then grinned.

"Sorry, bud." He didn't sound the least bit sorry. "But," he paused to swallow again, "like I said. I don't get it - if this wedding is _on the beach_ why the hell do we have to wear tuxedos? Like - shouldn't we be in shorts or at least linen trousers or - you know, if they _really_ wanted to do this right, we should all be in thongs. Think of the wedding photos, Ro."

I sighed and shook my head, trying very hard _not_ to think of the wedding photos.

"Okay," Duo continued, "so maybe not _everyone_ should wear thongs - Howard, for instance. Who _knows_ what those floral shirts are hiding, am I right?"

I did not even want to _begin_ to contemplate what was under Howard's horrific selection of Hawaiian shirts.

"I don't think that Quatre and Wufei are the type to wear thongs," I pointed out.

Duo turned to me with a wide, knowing grin.

"I don't want to know," I said as quickly as I could.

"Whaddya mean? How could you _not_ want to know about Spring Break in Cancun when we were twenty one and Quatre, bless his little heart, had his first taste of tequila and Wufei had _his_ first taste of Quatre. And if you think they aren't the type to wear thongs, well let me -"

"We're here," I announced with relief.

Duo smirked, catching my tone, but he mercifully ended the story before he began it and stepped forward to open the door for me.

As soon as we stepped into Beckenstein Bespoke, Duo took a step closer to me, clearly trying to close ranks. I didn't blame him - I was, in fact, grateful.

Unlike our friends, Quatre and Wufei, Duo and I both came from humble backgrounds. When we had been asked to be their best men - Quatre asked Duo and Wufei asking me - Duo had shrugged and said that 'yeah, I can get a suit from the mall or something' and Quatre had looked suitably horrified.

So, after weeks of procrastinating, Quatre had made us promise to meet him at _his_ personal tailor today to be fitted for suits.

The store we had walked into - proudly creating custom masterpieces since 1919 - was overwhelming. It wasn't even large - but it was filled with dark, rich wooden display cases showcasing ties, cuff-links and bolts of fabric while mannequins, dressed impeccably, dotted the wooden floor that was so polished I could see my reflection in it.

"Ro, we are _not_ in Kansas anymore," Duo muttered to me.

I could only nod in agreement.

Despite my best attempts, I couldn't see a single price tag on _anything_. I had been friends with Quatre and Wufei long enough to know what that meant - I couldn't afford it.

"I'm going to be eating fucking Ramen noodles for the rest of my life after this," Duo continued and once again I was forced to nod.

"Duo! Heero!"

We looked over at the bright head of hair that stepped from behind a mannequin.

"Quatre!" Duo returned just as enthusiastically. "How's the countdown going? Only twenty one days left before you're stuck with him forever..."

Quatre rolled his eyes. Duo teased him about the 'countdown' every chance he got these days.

"It's going _fine_ , thanks for asking. There's still so much to do though! I've got another meeting with the caterer tomorrow and Wufei's cousin is -"

"You know, if you want to beg off, run away or whatever, I'm here for you," Duo said with a grin.

Quatre rolled his eyes again. "I have absolutely no desire to run away from Wufei. But," he added with a grin of his own, "speaking of running away. It's time for you two to finally get fitted for suits."

Duo gave a loud, theatrical groan. I wasn't sure how much of it was for effect and how much was genuine - it _sounded_ as full of dread as I felt.

I hadn't worn a suit since my final performance in the chamber choir at my undergrad, and I was not looking forward to revisiting the feeling of being slowly choked to death _or_ looking like a penguin.

Quatre gave Duo an indulgent look. "All you have to do is wear it _once_ and then you can burn it."

Duo snorted and fingered a bolt of navy plaid fabric. "Q, how uh, how much is this once and done suit going to cost me? Cuz, uh...I _do_ have to pay rent…"

I nodded in agreement, glad that Duo had spoken up.

Quatre actually flushed. "Oh, well, obviously I don't expect either of you to pay for your suits. It's -"

I shook his head. "You aren't paying for our suits. It's _your_ wedding."

"Yeah," Duo chimed in. "We just, ah, you know, need to maybe look at the clearance section or something? I mean - I know that you and Wufei have this whole color scheme thing and we want to fit in that but just… affordably?"

Quatre made a slightly impatient sound and he folded his arms.

"I can appreciate that," he said slowly, as if he was addressing a group of particularly stupid children that he loved, "but the fabric I've selected is the _only_ one that works with our color scheme and - these are bespoke suits. There is no such thing as a _clearance_ section."

"Bespoke?" Duo echoed.

"They make each suit for each customer."

" _Oh_." Duo looked at me, wide eyed, and I could see his fears of never being able to pay off his college loans.

"So how much is it going to cost?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Probably forty-five hundred dollars."

We stared at him.

"Forty - five _hundred_ dollars?" Duo echoed. "Are you - for both, right? Like, that's total for _both_ of ours?" Duo gestured frantically between us.

Quatre slowly shook his head in the negative.

"Quatre, my _car_ cost less than that," I had to point out.

"And your car wasn't hand-made by one of the best tailors in the United States," Quatre retorted but then he sighed. "Look, guys, this is why I said I was going to get the suits. It's - I _know_ how much that kind of money means to you. And for me -"

"Wait, wait just a minute," Duo interrupted, holding up one hand. "So are you telling me that you routinely buy suits that cost almost five thousand dollars?"

Quatre bit the left corner of his own mouth.

"Oh sweet _Jesus_ your suits cost _more_?" Duo guessed.

Quatre nodded and I knew Duo was doing mental calculations - tallying up the number of suits he had seen Quatre wear and figuring out just how much money our blond friend had spent on clothes.

Duo, whose salary as an elementary school teach was beyond pathetic and _still_ donated to charities and volunteered with inner-city youth organizations, was no doubt figuring out just how much equipment for his school's baseball team he could have purchased, how many computers, how many textbooks - I could _see_ his eyes start to narrow and knew I needed to step in.

"We can at least pay for our own ties," I said, knowing it sounded ridiculous.

They both looked at me for a moment, but then Duo snorted a laugh and I could see the tension ease out of his body.

"Yeah, I mean, unless those are _more_ than a hundred dollars?"

The look on Quatre's face had Duo muttering under his breath and I was nearly ready to do the same.

I had always known that Quatre - and Wufei - had money. But I had never really considered that, in addition to weekends in Paris _just because_ and a house in the Hamptons and a ski lodge in Jackson Hole, they had this kind of money to spend on clothing, of all things.

"Would you like to begin?"

I looked up at the sound of a rich baritone voice.

A tall, trim man with auburn hair and vivid green eyes, wearing an immaculate three piece charcoal plaid suit, stood before us.

"Oh, yes, thank you Trowa! These are my friends - Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell."

Trowa nodded at each of us as Quatre introduced us.

"If you would care to follow me?" Trowa gestured towards the back of the story and a very ominous blue velvet curtain.

We followed, Duo giving me a look that suggested he wanted to run very far and very fast, and stepped back into a small room that looked exactly what I pictured an exclusive gentlemen's club would look like.

There was a leather armchair and matching footrest, a leather couch and a fully stocked wet bar all on one side of the room. The other side of the room was dominated by a large, three-paneled mirror and a small, round platform on the floor. A large, well polished walnut cabinet stood next to the mirror.

Duo arched an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. I had no idea what we had just walked into either.

"Which one of you would like to go first?" Trowa asked.

"Uh…"

Duo looked at me, saw the pleading look I sent him, and sighed.

"I guess that'd be me," he said and forced a grin. He put his hands on his hips and adopted an idiotic Superman pose. "Whaddya need from me?"

Trowa smirked and I couldn't help but notice just how handsome he was.

"Just your measurements, for now."

Duo grinned. "Alright. Uh, last I checked I wore a medium shirt and my jeans are uhhh…" Duo twisted around to look at the inner label on his waist. "Thirty-two by thirty-four."

Trowa looked at Quatre in amusement.

"Virgins," Quatre said.

"I see." Trowa turned back to Duo, eyes gleaming. "Go ahead and strip down to your underwear."

" _What_?" Duo looked alarmed, he looked first to me and then to Quatre. "Why?"

Trowa arched one eyebrow. "So that your suit fits better than your jeans."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with the way my jeans fit!" Duo turned, looking at himself in the mirror, and I saw Trowa looking as well. And his admiration was obvious.

"No," he agreed with a sardonic smirk, "but your suit isn't going to be made of denim -"

"Damn, that would have been fucking awesome," Duo interjected.

"-So I need to take _actual_ measurements," Trowa finished.

Duo sighed and then shrugged. "Okay - but don't I get a drink first? I mean, this is all moving so fast!"

Trowa shook his head but gestured to the bar. "Please, help yourself."

I watched Duo pour himself a glass of whiskey - and the fact that I didn't recognize the label clued me in to the fact that it was probably just as ridiculously expensive as the suit was going to be.

Duo took a sip of the whiskey, made an appreciative face, and passed the glass off to me.

"Alright," he turned to Trowa with a grin, "let's do this."

He started to undress, unbuttoning the slightly wrinkled shirt he was wearing but then pausing when he had it fully open, revealing his tanned, toned stomach and the anatomical tattoo of a heart over his chest.

I saw Trowa looking at him in the mirror and Duo raised an eyebrow. I wondered if he was going to call out the tailor for ogling him, but Duo turned around and regarded Quatre with a smirk.

"I see what this is - you put up a fuss about no strippers for your bachelor party next week but what you _really_ wanted was the Duo Maxwell special, eh?" Duo pulled the shirt off his arms and tossed it onto Quatre's lap.

Quatre flushed and I had to snort a laugh at Duo's antics and Quatre's all too predictable reaction.

The blond man picked the shirt up between two fingers and moved it to the arm of couch. He looked past Duo to Trowa.

"I need to go and make some calls - do you feel comfortable with them?"

Trowa arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure my comfort is his concern," he murmured and Duo chuckled. "But I feel confident I can manage them."

"Yeah, well - famous last words, bud," Duo said and dramatically whipped off his belt.

Quatre rolled his eyes, still blushing, and escaped to the other side of the velvet curtain, cell phone in hand.

I sat down on the couch and took a sip of Duo's whiskey. It was smooth. Very, _very_ smooth and I had the repeat feeling that this was not a world I belonged in.

Duo tossed his jeans my way and I had to move quickly to avoid spilling the whiskey all over myself.

Duo grinned at me in the mirrors and I shook my head at him, though I knew it wouldn't have any kind of impact.

"Alright, where do you want me?" Duo asked the tailor, standing confidently in nothing but his socks and boxer-briefs. And of course, there was no reason for him _not_ to be confident. He was gorgeous - from his face to his hair to his trim, tattooed body and it was clear that Trowa was an appreciative admirer.

Duo had, he had confessed to me one night over a nearly empty bottle of vodka, a thing for pain and tattoos were his favorite way to indulge. As such, he had acquired quite the collection over the years. He had been careful to keep them in discreet places - or at least places that would be covered by his clothes at work - so they were mostly on his shoulders, sides, back, chest, hips and thighs. He did have a line of text tattooed on the insole of his left foot, a poem about death that he refused to explain to me, and a tattoo of a cross just below the knuckle of his left thumb. It wasn't until you saw him like this - nearly naked - that you realized just how _many_ tattoos he had.

Trowa gestured to the raised platform and Duo nimbly jumped onto it and struck another pose. Trowa rolled his eyes, but there was still a smirk tugging at his lips.

"How do you know Quatre?" Trowa asked with a smirk, and it was clear he was having trouble reconciling _Duo_ to straight-laced, no problem throwing down thousands of dollars for a single suit, _Quatre_.

"Went to college together. I introduced him to Wufei, actually - grumpy bastard was my roommate and I formulated the brilliant plan to get him laid so he would chill the fuck out. Worked out pretty well."

"For them and for you," Trowa murmured and Duo chuckled.

Trowa eased Duo's hands away from his hips and stepped close.

I watched from my position on the couch as Trowa pulled out a long, fabric tape measure and started to wrap it around Duo's throat. I saw Duo shiver at the touch, saw Trowa's lips quirk again, and I felt my eyes narrow.

I wondered, as Trowa moved down to Duo's chest and nudged his arms up, if he was this handsy with _all_ the men he measured. I wondered if it was absolutely necessary for his fingers to glance over Duo's nipples, if he needed to rest his palm on the small of Duo's back while he took some measurement on his shoulders, if he _really_ had to put his hand on the waist of Duo's briefs while measuring his hips.

I realized, only after I saw Duo's raised eyebrow in the mirror, that I was scowling at the tailor and gripping the glass of whiskey hard enough to turn my knuckles white.

I took another sip of the drink and tried to force myself to relax.

But then Trowa knelt down in front of Duo, nudged his feet apart, and looked up at him like a supplicant.

"Which side?" Trowa asked.

Duo stared down at him in confusion.

"Uh…"

Trowa smirked again. "Which side does it normally hang on - right or left?" He gestured towards Duo's groin.

Duo's face flushed and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Oh, uh, the left, usually, but - well, hi there!"

Trowa had gone into motion as soon as Duo said _left_ , reaching between Duo's legs and pushing the tape measure all the way up to the juncture between his thighs and I could see the outline of Duo's cock and balls, could see the tattoo of a tragedy mask on his inner thigh as the fabric of the briefs rode up.

And very suddenly, I was done with this little show.

I tossed back the last of the whiskey and rose to my feet.

"Ro?" Duo called out as I put a hand to the curtain.

I turned and saw his uncertain reflection in the mirror, saw Barton still kneeling in front of him, his face only inches from Duo's thighs.

"I'm going to get some air," I decided.

Duo frowned and he took a step back from Trowa.

"Wait - what - hey," he turned to Trowa and offered him an apologetic look, "would you mind giving us a minute?"

Trowa arched an eyebrow, but he rose to his feet in one fluid motion and shrugged.

"Of course. I'll be just on the other side," he said and gestured to the curtain. He walked past me, offering me a smirk, and disappeared through the curtain.

That damn smirk - I found my hands clenched into fists and had to take a deep breath before I could force them back open.

"Ro - Ro look at me."

I sighed and I turned.

Duo had abandoned the platform and had crossed the small room to stand in front of me. He looked concern, all of his earlier humor and teasing gone.

"What's going on?" he asked, in the voice that meant he _knew_ something was wrong and if I tried to deny it things would only go badly for me.

"Nothing," I tried to deny it anyway and his eyes narrowed dangerously. I made a futile gesture towards the couch and the wet bar. "This whole ridiculous set up - this - _that_ tailor feeling you up and -"

Duo's eyes went wide.

"Wait a minute. Are you _jealous_?"

I glared and Duo smirked.

"Ro. You're fucking jealous."

"Of course I am! How could I not be! I'm sitting three feet away while his hands _all_ over you. He's about two minutes from just stripping you down and blowing you, Duo."

"Uh, Ro -"

"And you're flirting with him!"

Duo's cheeks turned red.

"I, fuck. I guess I am." He heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry. This whole situation - it's just got me feeling really fucking weird. I mean, Quatre's dropping almost ten thousand dollars on us for a pair of fucking _suits_ and then there's all of this shit," he waved at the room, "and he told me to take off my clothes and I just thought, hell, if I was going to be miserable I might as well entertain _you_. I didn't count on Mr. Handsy as fuck though."

I had to arch an eyebrow and Duo made an exasperated sound.

"What - you think I'm _enjoying_ that guy touching me?"

I wasn't stupid or blind - Trowa was hot, and he was Duo's type. I arched an eyebrow.

Duo snorted and shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me _the look_ \- Duo's patented look of 'why are you such an idiot?'

"Okay, you're right. I'm having a fucking blast having this guy touch me. That's why I have such a raging boner right now."

I frowned - Duo hadn't had an erection at all - and I found myself looking down, wondering if that had changed. It hadn't.

 _Oh_. I suddenly felt like an idiot.

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Exactly. You _know_ me, Ro. I'm not exactly, uh, _subtle_ when I'm turned on. I mean, you should know."

It was true, and I _did_ know.

I looked down and he sighed.

"Ro."

The way he said my name had me looking back up.

"You make me hard just by glaring at me and saying my _name_. Hell, my dick starts leaking when you _kiss_ me. You really think I'm enjoying having this guy touch me? You really think I'd enjoy _anyone_ else touching me when I know they're never gonna compare to you?"

"I -"

"Rhetorical, Ro." Duo put a finger to my lips. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop flirting with him. I'll be on my very best behaviour and, if _you_ make it through your fitting without punching Trowa, we can go home and _I'll_ take your measurements."

It took me a minute - my mind was never as quick to go to dirty places as Duo's - but then the mental image of Duo, kneeling down in front of me, made me suck in a breath.

"We don't have a tape measure at home."

Duo shrugged one shoulder and he traced a finger around my throat in a parody of Trowa's measurements.

"We'll improvise. I've been told I'm very good with my hands, and my _tongue_."

I swallowed hard, forced myself _not_ to remember just how very good he was with both, and nodded.

Duo grinned broadly. "Good. I'd kiss you right now, but ah, _talking_ about this is giving me enough problems - I don't think I need to go full on erect here or who knows what Trowa will try to measure next."

Duo gestured to his groin and I could see the outline of his cock, the shape so well known to me that I knew he was half hard, knew that a few words from me or my tongue in his ear - or my lips against his - would have him fully erect and groaning.

But even so, I couldn't resist saying _something_.

"I think I'll be the one doing the measuring," I murmured.

He made a sound in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a whimper, and I had to smirk.

"You're a fucking cock-tease, Ro," Duo muttered.

"If I'm not yet, I certainly intend to be later."

Duo glared at me and then turned away. I could see his reflection in the mirror, could see his hard cock straining at his briefs and his eyes squeezed shut.

"What are you doing?" I asked in amusement.

"I'm remembering the outs during game seven of the World Series."

" _Why_?" I had to ask.

He cracked one eye open and glared at me.

"Because thinking of that clusterfuck is the only way I'm going to _stop_ thinking about you taking care of this," he gestured at his cock and I smirked. " _Stop_ looking at me like that," he muttered and closed his eyes again.

I watched Duo get control of himself, watched with disappointment as his erection flagged but amusement at his relief.

"Okay, Trowa!" he called out and the tailor immediately stepped back into the room.

I had to wonder if he had been just on the other side of the curtain the entire time, wondered _what_ he had heard.

"Let's get this show on the road, yeah?" Duo asked and took his place back on the platform. He looked in the mirror and winked at me. "Got places to be and things to do. People to -"

I cleared my throat and Duo grinned mischievously.

"-see," he finished innocently.

-o-


End file.
